


This Hating Game

by hazelandglasz



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Blind Date, Cheerio Kurt, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Matchmaking, Riding, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 07:02:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11053785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelandglasz/pseuds/hazelandglasz
Summary: From @prompt-a-klainefic : Kurt and Blaine couldn't stand each other in high school, maybe one was a jock/cheerleader and the other a nerd/glee clubber. Or they were bitter rivals for competition solos if they were both in glee club. Now they both live in NY and their friends set them up on a blind date, not knowing they went to the same high school





	This Hating Game

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank the organizers of this Klaine Prompt Reverse Bang, for taking the time to bring writers and artists together  
> I want to thank Ela @datshitrandom for making such an inspiring work of art (it looks like a poster seriously), and for letting me write this story based on it  
> Finally I want to thank Caterina @bluecloudsupabove for being such an excellent beta!

_Eleven years ago_

God that letterman jacket is heavy.

But you would have to pay Blaine a lot of money to take it off, even in the abnormally hot weather they’re having.

From what he gathered, the red and black piece of clothing is the only shield he can use in this school.

The only thing that will keep the bruises and the hits and the taunts at bay.

So it may be heavy, and polyester, and yes, a little bit smelly, but Blaine will wear it until he can leave Ohio behind in a trail of dust.

“Oi, Anderson.”

Blaine is torn between snickering or rolling his eyes.

He does both for good measure. “Yes, Puckerman?”

The wannabe badboy throws his arm around Blaine’s shoulder and pulls him close to walk down the halls. “You settling down alright?”

“Uh, yeah, yes I suppose.”

“Nobody givin’ you any trouble?”

Blaine looks up at Puck and smiles. “Not since I joined the team.”

Puck smiles back. “Good, good. And how’s it goin’ with the ladies?”

Blaine frowns and shrugs Puck’s arm off him. “Puck, you know--you know I’m gay right?”

“Guess I forgot,” Puck replies with a look of innocence that is far too practiced to be honest. “But you know who else is gay? Finn’s bro.”

“Would you look at that,” Blaine deadpans, even as his cheeks heat up. “What a coincidence.”

“I know right?” Puck is literally beaming now. “So it’s settled.”

“What’s settled?”

“You’ll go on a date with Hummel, and that way, we can triple date with Cheerios.”

“Who says I’m going on a date with him?”

It’s not that Blaine minds going on a date with the Cheerio co-captain--Kurt Hummel is all long, agile limbs and blue eyes--, he’s really protesting for the principle of Puck (and probably Finn) pushing the two out gays together.

“Oh c’m’on bro,” Puck pleads, lightly punching Blaine’s shoulder, “Quinn wants her bro to have a date or she won’t get out with us, and--”

“And you really want to go on a date with her?”

“Yeah.” Puck pauses before wilting in front of Blaine’s glare. “Among other things. Please, Blaine, come on, I’ll owe you.”

“Ah, now you’re talking.”

*

Blaine doesn’t know why he finally agreed--50% to get Puck off his back, 50% to actually go on a date with Kurt, probably--but he tries to calm himself down.

It’s just a date at Breadstix, with Puck and Finn.

Puck and Quinn are already making googly eyes at each other, and Quinn misplaced one footsie too many for Blaine’s liking.

If Finn could hurry up with Rachel and Kurt, that would be awesome.

Otherwise Blaine is just going to eat the whole basket of breadsticks, no matter how stale they are.

“Sorry we’re late, Kurt couldn’t--”, Finn starts as they finally arrive, but a glare and a well-placed elbow make him stop, “I mean, I couldn’t figure out what to, um, wear?”

Blaine barely holds in a chuckle at that, since Finn is wearing his usual “date outfit” of clean-ish shirt, jeans and letterman jacket.

As a matter of fact, the three of them are wearing their jackets.

Blaine decided to wear a bowtie, so at least he earns point for originality, doesn’t he.

Kurt sits down in front of him, and Blaine has to remind himself how to breathe. The co-captain of the cheerleading squad looks …

Amazing.

Stunning.

Casual, with his fitted jeans, white shirt and black waistcoat, but still classy.

That shiny brooch does wonders.

“You look good,” Blaine tells him with a crooked smile as an ice-breaker.

“I look great,” Kurt replies haughtily before dropping his eyes to his folded hands on the table. “But thanks.”

Blaine knows his cheeks are heating up, especially because Puck keeps on giving him sideway glances.

“You don’t look half bad either, Blaine,” Rachel says maybe a tad too loudly, and Blaine nods in acknowledgment.

Looking up, he sees the quick angry look Kurt throws her way before returning to him, and for a moment they just look into each other’s eyes.

Kurt’s cheeks are dusted pink and he snatches a menu to hide his face.

If anything, Blaine finds it very endearing.

“You do look good.”

Blaine peers up from behind his menu, to see Kurt watching him. “Hm?”

“The bowtie--it’s a nice touch.”

“Thank you.”

“A bit nerdy, sure, but I can appreciate a good accessory.”

Blaine smiles now, smoothing down one of the sides of the bowtie.

But before he can reply--

“Though it is a bit ironic, don’t you think?”

“Ironic?”

“A jock wearing what’s usually a nerd’s outfit?”

Blaine clenches his jaw. “I can’t be part of the football team and a nerd?”

Kurt lets out a snort of laughter, followed by Quinn and Puck. “Um, no, that’s not how school hierarchy works.”

“Too bad.”

Kurt rolls his eyes at Blaine, and if Blaine continues, he’s going to grind his teeth to dust. “What, you want us to believe you are _sooo_ layered,” Kurt teases, slamming the menu down on the table and leaning towards Blaine.

“Um, Kurt, I wouldn’t--,” Puck, of all people, starts, but Blaine holds his hand up.

“No, Puck, let him continue,” he says, sickenly sweet.

Both Puck and Finn know that tone.

It usually precedes a storm of epic proportion--Azimio still remembers it.

“So nice of you to _let_ me speak,” Kurt replies, tone just as sweet.

Their smiles could only be described as tight, and Finn exchanges a look with Rachel, who gives Puck a pointed look, who glances at Quinn for guidance.

“Um, guys, let’s order, I’m star-ving,” she cuts in with a wide smile and a flick of her blonde hair in Kurt’s face.

He blinks and Blaine leans back in his chair. “Excellent idea.”

*

The date doesn’t improve from there, but at least it doesn’t delve into a full-fleshed fight.

It’s when they all get back to their cars that it takes a turn for the worse.

Namely, when Finn and Puck start kissing Rachel and Quinn like they’re going to war and Kurt and Blaine are left to stand on the side like two awkward fifth wheels.

Blaine tries his best to look at anything but the two kissing couples and the boy next to him.

God knows he went into this date willing to have it ending with Kurt and himself engaging in the same activities, but now that he’s talked to the guy?

Yeah, no thanks.

Kurt sneaks a look at him, trying to catch his attention, and Blaine slowly, as slowly as possible, turns his head towards him with his best look of disdain.

Aka Blaine’s Bitch Please Number 5, copyright pending.

Kurt tilts his head towards the two couples and nods a couple of times, his eyebrows raising, as if suggesting …

“Have you lost your mind, Hummel?” Blaine hisses, recoiling from Kurt. “What exactly in that disaster of an evening gave you the impression that it was going to end in a big tonguefest?”

The kissing soundtrack ends, but Blaine cannot look away from the look of fury and shame that takes over Kurt’s face.

“Like it would be such a burden to try and improve this shitty evening with some make out with _me_?” Kurt retorts before sticking his nose in the air.

Blaine opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, looking for support from one of the bystanders. Funnily enough, none of the foursome looks his way.

Such an interesting sidewalk.

“A burden, maybe not,” Blaine replies, his temper getting the best of him. “But definitely not a pleasure either. You think this is all a game?”

“A game?”

Kurt’s voice is back to being sickly sweet, and it makes Blaine see red.

“Yeah a game. Are you here only so you can put a notch on your bedpost? Did you kiss the whole football team to prove something to yourself?”

“Blaine--”

“Buddy, you should stop right th--”

“No, you know what,” Blaine continues, unable and more importantly, unwilling, to stop now, because his crush on Kurt and his hopes at a high-school relationship just crashed and burned in the most ugly way, and he’s _pissed_. “I get that you want to defend him, because he’s your brother, and you want to defend him, because you feel like shit for everything you put him through and, or, because you are attracted to him or something--”

“Hey!”

“He’s got a point, Noah.”

“Hey!!”

“-- _but_ I’m done trying to coddle the poor little cheerleader who was bullied and uses his position at the top of the food chain to bully back.”

“Ex-cuse me?!”

Kurt stepped closer at some point during Blaine’s rant, and they’re practically in each other’s face.

“I see you, Hummel,” Blaine says between his teeth, his cheeks burning, “and I see that you entertain yourself by looking down on everybody that you deem beneath you. Guess what--you’re not better than anybody in this school, and you should get used to be average for the rest of your life.”

“How dare--”

“Guys, see you tomorrow at practice. Ladies, goodnight. Kurt … well, see you around the school, I guess.”

On his way back to his car, he can hear Quinn’s whisper echoing across the parking lot.

“Didn’t know he had it in him.”

\---

_Today_

Blaine smoothes down his black shirt and checks his reflection in the mirror across the restaurant.

Unique was adamant that this was the blind date to end all blind dates--nay, the last blind date he would ever need to do, because his date was his soulmate.

Setting aside the fact that maybe, just maybe, Unique had a weird passion for Blaine’s love life, he was willing to try.

The appeal of romance, the thrill of maybe finding the one man who would make his heart race? Yes, Blaine was all for it.

Unique had only agreed to tell him the first name of the Mystery Soulmate, and that he was hot, and that he would wear something red.

And so shall he.

Hence the red pants.

The fact that they showcase his ass like no other pants in his closet is a definite bonus.

His beard is trimmed, for once, Blaine made sure to be on just the right side of hispter.

He cleans his glasses with the hem of his shirt before returning his attention to the door, looking for a tall man with a “perfect sense of fashion, you can’t miss him, Blaine, Kurt really does stand out in a crowd.”

That name made Blaine freeze, but he dismissed that feeling--it’s not such an unusual name, after all, is it.

Many men are called Kurt.

It’s New York after all, maybe Kurt just arrived from Europe and Blaine will get to explore all that Old continent vibe.

There is no reason for Unique’s Kurt to be Kurt Hummel.

God knows it’s water under a bridge, but the memory of his date with the head cheerleader, back when he was just starting at McKinley, still makes his face burn with shame.

How mean did he get, without any real provocation.

So the date was a doozy--that’s not a reason to tear into a guy who was just trying to survive highschool, just like Blaine did.

He had such a bad temper as a teenager--thank God for therapy and boxing (and yoga).

Oh well, Blaine tells himself, water under bridges.

He has grown, they all did. Kurt grew up too--Blaine wonders where he is now …

He can always check Facebook later, if the blind date doesn’t go as wonderfully as Unique predicted.

“I can’t believe this.”

Blaine looks towards the voice that just spoke--high, yet masculine, strangely familiar.

His eyes find a torso, toned and lean, covered in a red leopard [ sweater ](http://fashionofglee.tumblr.com/post/82887096826/kurt-hummel-michael-bastian-sweater), and he looks up and up and--

And frankly, he can’t believe this either.

“Kurt? Hummel?!”

Because there is no doubt in his mind that this man _is_ Kurt E. Hummel, all grown-up and glaring at him.

Something tells Blaine that he should _not_ find this particular detail as hot as it does.

“Small world,” Kurt replies, arms crossed and index tapping his elbow.

Blaine leans back in his chair and reaches for his bowtie. “Indeed.”

They look at each other until Kurt has to move out one waiter’s way, and Blaine takes advantage of the few seconds of relief to compose himself.

“What should we do now?” Kurt says, probably more speaking to himself than asking an actual question.

Blaine doesn’t have to think too hard to decide how to reply. “Care for a do over?”

“Excuse me?”

The tone is still the same, superior and cutting, but Blaine has grown.

He doesn’t let it have the same crumpling effect.

“I think it’s safe to say that we both wish the … date we had, if we can call it that, never happened, correct?”

Kurt tilts his head to the side, and _would you look at that jawline, it would feel amazing under my lips …_

“I suppose.”

Blaine mentally slaps himself out of his fantasy. “Then I offer a do over. Let’s pretend we don’t know each other.”

Kurt squints at him, as if gauging him. “For real?”

Blaine puts his left hand over his heart and raises his right hand. “Scout’s honor.”

Kurt looks down, trying--and failing--to hide his smile. Then he pulls out the chair and sits down.

Blaine has _no idea_ why he feels so relieved.

“Some things never change,” Kurt says softly. “Once a dork, always a dork.”

Blaine cocks one eyebrow at him and Kurt blushes, raising his hands in front of him. “Sorry, sorry, do over, my bad.”

“Hi,” Blaine replies, offering his hand. “I’m Blaine, you must be Kurt?”

Kurt considers the offer before shaking it. “Indeed. Very nice to meet you.”

Blaine barely manages to contain his beaming smile. “And you. Unique was particularly insistent that this was her best matchmaking.”

Kurt smirks at that, crossing his arms on the table. “Let’s see. So tell me, Blaine, what do you do?”

Blaine smiles at Kurt before answering.

 _Game on_.

*

Somewhere between the main dish and the dessert, Blaine finds himself in a position he didn’t foresee.

He doesn’t want the evening to end.

Kurt is … the most interesting man Blaine has ever met.

Charming, smart, with a sharp sense of humor--all qualities that Blaine’s latest dates sorely lacked.

He asks Blaine many questions, pays attention to his replies, teases him a little bit about the whole Hipster™ look Blaine has going on, but in a playful way that is antithetic to how his younger self offered criticism.

The sparkle in his eyes in the soft candlelight does help to make this a delightful experience.

One that, as previously stated, Blaine doesn’t want to see ending.

“May I interest you gentlemen in a dessert?” Their waiter asks, and Blaine has a positive reply on the tip of his tongue when Kurt answers, “No, thank you.”

_What?!_

His dismay must show on his face, more than he’d like. Kurt frowns at him, and then his eyes widen in understanding.

“Oh, no!” He exclaims. “I didn’t mean--tonight has been great, but I know a wonderful place for cheesecake and they’re opened all night, and their soundtrack is more discreet so we could, you know, talk more peacefully, I just--”

Blaine reaches for one of Kurt’s flailing hands. “Thank you,” he says calmly, as calmly as he can that is, what with his heart beating madly against his ribs, rubbing his thumb over Kurt’s knuckles. “I would love that.”

Kurt opens his mouth and closes it, wrapping his fingers around Blaine’s hand. The corners of his mouth lift into a gentle, innocent smile. “I’m glad,” he replies, his voice slightly breathless. “So … cheesecake?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“It’s not in this neighborhood though.”

“I don’t mind, we can use some walking before such a treat.”

“Actually, it’s closer to my place.”

“In Bushwick?”

“Yes.”

Blaine only realizes now that he never let go of Kurt’s hand. There is a strange form of intimacy, in both the gesture and the words being said.

And Kurt hasn’t taken his hand away either.

“I don’t mind.”

Kurt’s eyes widen, and there is a barely perceptible tension in his hold on Blaine’s hand. “You … don’t?”

Blaine leans forward, covering their joined hands with his free one. “Tonight has been great indeed, I can only agree with you,” he says softly, keeping his eyes on Kurt. “And I don’t really want to see ending.”

“Same here,” Kurt replies, his earlier panic receding from his eyes. “We were both assholes as teenagers.”

“Just trying to survive in our own ways.”

“But now that I got to really talk to you,” Kurt continues, his eyes dropping to their joined hands, “I don’t know if I ever will want to say goodbye to you.”

“Who says you have to?”

Kurt’s smile widens until his eyes crinkle adorably. “Who indeed.”

*

The cheesecake turns into three, and changes into a walk on the banks of the Hudson river to watch the sunrise.

It’s only now, as the sky takes a pink, orange hue, that the conversation between the two men dwindles. The silence it leaves behind is comfortable, and Blaine mentally sends a thank you to Unique’s hunch.

They _are_ perfectly matched, there is no doubt about that.

Kurt yawns before sitting on a bench, and Blaine follows his lead. Kurt keeps one arm over the back of the bench.

It only feels natural for Blaine to lean against it, stretching his legs with a sigh.

“Do you--” Kurt starts, a yawn cutting him short. “Do you have to go to work today?”

Blaine pets his beard, his eyelids closing on their own accord now that they are sitting down. “Nope,” he replies after thinking about it, popping the last sound. “You?”

“Maybe a couple of emails to appease the Powers that look over me,” Kurt replies, once again cut off by a yawn that makes his jaw pop.

(Blaine can hear it popping)

“But otherwise, free as a bird.”

“Wanna come sleep at my place?”

The words are out of Blaine’s mouth before he can rein them in, but for his defense, it’s sunrise and he didn’t get any sleep.

Not that he regrets it--the sleepless night or the offer--but it sounds a bit … a bit too forward.

Something dark appears in Kurt’s eyes. “Took you a decade, but you’re finally interested in a tonguefest, Anderson?”

Blaine can feel the tip of his ears heating up, and he straightens up, away from Kurt’s casual touch. “No! I mean yes!” he exclaims, backpedaling when Kurt’s face loses its teasing look. “I mean--,” he sighs, resting his elbows on his thighs. “You had to bring it up.”

Kurt’s laughter is slightly embarrassed. Blaine chances a look, and sure enough, Kurt’s face is turning a blotchy kind of pink.

Or maybe it’s the reflection of the sunrise on the Hudson.

Either way, it’s adorable.

“I couldn’t resist teasing you,” Kurt admits in a mumble.

“Fair enough.”

“F-fair?”

“Yeah, I deserve it--my teenage self was not a dream.”

Kurt barks out a laugh that ends in an undignified snort. “You and me both.”

“Glad we agree on that.”

“That being said,” Kurt continues, “I … I wouldn’t mind.”

“Mind what?”

The blush on Kurt’s cheeks only intensifies. “Oh God, you’re going to make me say it?”

“Yes please.”

Kurt squints at him before giving him a crooked smile. “Fair, uh?”

“Precisely.”

“Fine--Blaine Anderson, as a redo of our first, quasi non-existent date, would you like to bring this one to a close with a ki--hmph.”

Blaine doesn’t linger, and the kiss realistically lasts less than three seconds, four tops.

But it’s everything.

Soft and delicate, and yet powerful and Earth-shattering, if Blaine is being honest.

Kurt’s fingers barely brush against his cheek as they part, gentle like a fluttering wing. For a moment, Blaine loses himself in Kurt’s eyes, before closing his own and diving in for a second kiss.

As far as second kisses go, this one is to be remembered.

(They’re lucky it’s so early that the only witness to that kiss is a dog walker and her three dogs.)

\--

Eventually, they part for the day, and Kurt is grateful for it.

While a good portion of him wanted nothing more than to take Blaine back to his apartment, get rid of that bowtie and those infuriating red pants, and test for himself the feeling of that hipster beard against his thighs ( _oh Lord_ yes), the rest of him still clings to his high school dreams.

Of dating Blaine Devon Anderson.

Of wooing him and being wooed in return.

Of having his romantic fantasy with a dreamboat of a man.

And now that they are adults, the dreamboat part is all too real.

Back then, sure, Kurt can admit that the persona he presented was pretty … abrasive, to say the least. He doesn’t blame Blaine for turning him down--even if he could have chosen other words to signify his disinterest …

Water under bridges, bygones etc., and Kurt is not entirely innocent in this matter.

Even after a decade, even with a beard and a pair of glasses, Kurt would have recognized him in any line-up.

Blaine Fucking Anderson.

Lying in his bed, Kurt allows himself to kick his feet in delight.

His teenage self would be delighted.

The moment Blaine had entered McKinley’s grounds, Kurt’s heart had started making somersaults that would have made Coach Sylvester very proud.

Kurt lost count of the number of times he wished he could have come to his defense when the rest of the school used the smaller boy as a punching ball.

Pushing Finn to offer a spot on the team to Blaine had been the right move, and seeing him in that red jacket only highlighted all the assets Kurt wanted by his side.

And then, that disastrous date night.

Over the years, Kurt has come to peace with it, with his behavior and the fact that while it cost him a potential boyfriend, it was the lightning bulb moment he needed to finally grow from an icy, kind of an asshole of a teenager into a confident and compassionate young man.

Blaine probably doesn’t know the impact he left on Kurt.

A ping from his phone derails Kurt from his walk down memory lane.

**From Blaine**

 

> Can you sleep 

Kurt smiles at his screen.

**To Blaine**

 

> _Nope_
> 
> Me neither 
> 
> I keep thinking about you 
> 
> Is that too much 
> 
> It’s too much, I’m sorry 
> 
> _Blaine_
> 
> _Honey_
> 
> _Calm down_
> 
> Oh 
> 
> _What_
> 
> I like that 
> 
> _Honey?_
> 
> Hmhm 
> 
> _:D My honey bee?_
> 
> Kurt Hummel I am blushing =^^= 
> 
> _Achievement then_
> 
> Is it too much if I say that I want another date with you? 
> 
> _Not at all, keep going_
> 
> May I invite you to come over to my place? 
> 
> _Keep going_
> 
> And cook for you? 
> 
> _You can cook?_
> 
> I am full of mysteries ;) 
> 
> _Cheeky_
> 
> You like it, admit it 
> 
> _I do *///*_
> 
> Good to know 
> 
> Is that a yes though? 
> 
> Cause I’d need to do some shopping (and cleaning) 
> 
> _I don’t mind if your place is a bit messy_
> 
> Uh-huh, sure 

Kurt looks around from his bed--apart from a pile of magazines and some clothes thrown over a chair, he’s no cleaning freak.

 

> _Wanna see my place, so you can calm down on the white tornado?_
> 
> If you don’t mind, I’d rather see your apartment in the flesh when I see it for the first time 

The romance of it, the promise hidden behind those words, make Kurt close his eyes for a moment, clutching his phone to his face.

 

> _Blaine Anderson, you charmer_
> 
> … Really? 
> 
> Not something I’ve been said often 
> 
> _Are you fishing for compliments? ;)_
> 
> Nope--I just thought that while being romantic, I wasn’t good at it 
> 
> At romance 
> 
> _Oh you’re good, trust me_
> 
> I do 
> 
> I will 
> 
> Sooo tonight? 
> 
> _Count on me_

Blaine texts him his address--Brooklyn too, just a different neighborhood--before bidding him a good day of rest.

With a [ kissy emoji ](http://pix.iemoji.com/images/emoji/apple/ios-9/256/kissing-face-with-closed-eyes.png).

Holy shit.

Kurt is about to go a second date with a complete nerd.

 _His_ nerd.

 _It is on_.

*

Blaine’s apartment [ looks ](https://www.nakedapartments.com/apartment/Studio-Eastern-PKWY-Brooklyn-NY-11233-cn9M6oNrIeyC)like him.

The building is old fashioned but the apartment itself is pretty modern. Lots of light, comfortable furniture and knick-knacks on every shelf--Kurt can guess that some of them disappeared somewhere in Blaine’s room during his “cleaning”.

The kitchen is compact--a lot like the man presently using it, his back to Kurt while he sprinkles little pieces of chili flakes in a pan.

Kurt is sitting at the bar that links the kitchen to Blaine’s living room, and while his eyes cannot, for the life of him, move from Blaine’s ass (what), he lets his brain take unknown roads.

Like the ones that move the furniture around to fit his armchair and his bookshelf.

The ones cataloguing Blaine’s DVDs to see which ones are already in his collection.

The ones where Kurt can easily, so easily (too easily), see himself living here, for short.

It’s scarily exciting--a lot like Kurt pictures sky-diving.

“Ta-daaa.”

Kurt returns his attention to the man who is making all those changes happen in his mind without even knowing it.

On the counter, there are two [ plates ](http://cdn-image.foodandwine.com/sites/default/files/styles/550x550/public/HD-201001-r-linguine-shrimp-and-tomatoes.jpg?itok=aMMI-_7r)that look absolutely divine. Pasta and shrimp--nothing too complicated, but it’s rich and creamy and it makes Kurt’s mouth water.

Like the man responsible for it, then.

“Linguine with creamy roasted tomatoes and grilled shrimps,” Blaine announces proudly as he grates lemon zest on top of the plate. “Buon appetito.”

Kurt is torn between devouring the dish or the cook himself.

He compromises, pulling Blaine towards him by grabbing his [ apron ](http://chillideals.com.au/media/catalog/product/cache/9/image/650x650/9df78eab33525d08d6e5fb8d27136e95/b/a/batman_2.jpg)to press a kiss to his lips before picking up his fork.

He takes a bite and has to clamp his mouth before a truly pornographic moan comes out of his mouth.

Blaine’s cheeks are still bright pink when he sits down next to Kurt. “You like it?”

Kurt pauses mid-chew to nod enthusiastically. “That’s delicious,” he says, not even caring that he might have some sauce on his cheek.

(He does.)

(He actually looks like he used the sauce as a lipstick.)

(Not that it matters to Blaine.)

“I’m glad,” Blaine says, delicately twirling his fork until the pasta is wrapped around it. Kurt has to admit that Blaine has amazing table manners.

And that he’s jealous of a piece of cutlery when Blaine brings the forkful to his lips.

“What is it?” Blaine asks and Kurt mentally shakes himself from his trance. “Do I have something on my face? Or on my shirt?”

“Just something--” Kurt says, taking the situation to his advantage, cupping Blaine’s cheek and brushing his thumb across it, “--here, and it’s gone, there you go.”

Except that he keeps his hand in place and leans forward to kiss Blaine one more time.

And another.

And another one, that lasts longer.

“Does that dish heat up well?” he whispers against Blaine’s lips.

“I don’t know,” Blaine replies, bowing his head to kiss along the line of Kurt’s jaw. “I guess we’ll have to find out.”

“You read my min-hmph.”

They both stand up, and Kurt reaches to take Blaine’s face in both his hands, guiding his face to make the kiss dirtier.

Blaine presses himself against Kurt, wrapping his arms around his waist.

As delicious as the dish Blaine cooked was, it’s nothing compared to how sweet Kurt finds the sounds Blaine makes in the kiss, little moans and groans that go straight to his cock.

Kurt moves one of his hands away from Blaine’s cheek to slide it down his back and lower.

Blaine breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against Kurt’s chest, a whine building up in his throat.

“God,” he breathes out, “I want you so much.”

“Me too,” Kurt says as he kisses Blaine's cheeks, his nose, the small space between his eyebrows, “so fucking much. Room?”

“Room.”

When they have more time, when the need to touch each other is not as pressing, Kurt will take the time to look at Blaine’s room. He will tease him for the amount of bookshelves, for the collection of cameras littering every available space.

He will pose for the very same cameras when Blaine aims them at him.

But that’s for the future to see, because for now, Kurt couldn’t care less if the room was bare, as long as there was still a bed, a bottle of lube and a box of condoms.

Kurt would be hard pressed to tell who took off what from whom, but the end result is to his satisfaction, the moment he lands on the bed and Blaine climbs on top of him without any layer of clothing between them.

“Do you--what do--how do you,” Blaine says, his hands roaming up and down Kurt’s body.

Kurt looks up at him and smiles crookedly. “I have to say that I like the view.”

The blush on Blaine’s cheeks spreads to his neck and chest. Kurt reaches up to follow its path, caressing Blaine’s nipples in the process.

Blaine hisses, arching his body towards the touch. “Humph.”

“Ride me, honey,” Kurt says huskily, resting his hands on Blaine’s hips.

Blaine’s eyes turn even darker, a ring of hazel barely visible now in the soft light of his bedside lamp. “Great idea.”

“Mine usually are.”

“We’ll see.”

Kurt cocks one eyebrow at Blaine as he rolls a condom down his length. “Is that a challenge, Anderson?”

Blaine straightens up, rising to his knees to get his lube-covered fingers to his ass. “You bet, Hummel.”

A laugh bubbles up in Kurt’s throat, and he bucks up his hips to brush his cock to Blaine’s ass cheeks. “Hurry up, _honey_.”

“So impatient,” Blaine says softly, eyes closed as he fingers himself opened. “How long have you been waiting for this?”

“Probably as long as you have.”

“Hmmmm, probably.”

“Aren’t you ready?”

“Hmmm feels good, gimme a minute.”

Kurt looks at Blaine, the way he undulates his body, fucking himself above him, and something snaps.

So he reaches for the option standing proudly in front of him. Wrapping his fingers around Blaine’s hard cock, Kurt strokes it a couple of times before cupping his balls.

Blaine’s eyes fly open and his hands are on Kurt’s shoulders in a flash, pressing him down onto the mattress while he lowers himself down Kurt’s cock.

They both let out a noise of contentment as they finally get what they wanted, and Kurt returns his hands to Blaine’s hips. His thumbs draws circles onto the V drawn here, leading to Blaine’s nest of pubic hair.

“See,” he says, his breath already coming out in pants as Blaine moves on top of him. “A great idea.”

“Hm-hmm.”

“Blaine …”

“Hm?”

“Look at me, honey,” Kurt says softly.

Blaine blinks his eyes open again, and he slows down as a soft smile stretches his lips.

“You’re amazing.”

Blaine’s smile widens.

“I bet I can make you come before I do.”

The smile turns predatory, and Blaine rises to his knees again, keeping only the tip of Kurt’s cock inside of him before dropping without a warning.

The pace is relentless, and Kurt almost regrets turning it into yet another challenge.

Almost.

Because it’s so good, and once he manages to get over the initial shock, he gives back as good as Blaine gives.

At some point, Blaine removes his hands from Kurt’s shoulders, steadying himself with his palms flat against Kurt’s chest.

Kurt can feel his orgasm building up, and while Blaine’s movements are getting less precise, he can’t tell how close he is.

Desperate orgasm times call for desperate pleasuring measures.

Kurt sits up, wrapping one arm around Blaine’s torso while his other hand goes back to pumping Blaine’s cock.

Blaine is sitting flushed in his lap now, and the kiss they exchange is more an exchange of moans and panted breath than an actual kiss.

“I’m … close,” Kurt says, his hand resting on the swell of Blaine’s ass.

“Me … too-- _oh God Kurt_ yes just like that, I’m going to--I …”

With a desperate shouted whine, Blaine comes all over Kurt’s fingers, spurts of come landing on both their chests.

The sounds, the sensation, the whole build-up is enough to drive Kurt over the crest of his pleasure, and he smothers his shout in Blaine’s neck as he fills up the condom.

They stay in their position for a minute (or a lifetime, it’s a tomahto-tomayto kind of deal as far as Kurt is concerned) before Blaine pulls away, just enough to look Kurt in the eyes.

Sweat covers his face and beard, and stray curls are stuck to his forehead. His cheeks are flushed, and the sperm on his chest is starting to congeal.

He has never looked more perfect in Kurt’s eyes.

“I guess you won,” Blaine says, voice hoarse.

“Uh?”

“I came first.”

“Ah, yeah,” Kurt huffs a laugh. “I guess I did win.”

Blaine hums, rolling off of Kurt to lay down on his back on the bed.

Kurt rolls the other way, planning on going to the bathroom and find something to clean them both up.

As he stands up, Blaine lets out a small laugh.

“What is it?”

“I was just thinking how things have changed between us.”

“Hm?”

“From hating each other to--”

“To … not hating each other?”

They both smile shyly at each other. “I honestly can say that I don’t hate you at all, Kurt Hummel.”

“Ditto, Blaine Anderson.”

“When you come back, do you care for a … rematch?”

Kurt can feel his cock valiantly trying to get up again already at the way Blaine wiggles his eyebrows.

At the picture he makes on top of his dark sheets, tan skin glinting like some sort of ancient golden statue.

A picture of hedonism.

“You’re on.”

~The End~


End file.
